


May I Have This Dance

by fandombasurero



Series: Steve Rogers Drabbles [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 40s!Steve Rogers x 40s!Reader, 40s!Steve Rogers x Reader, F/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Imagine, Steve Rogers fanfiction, Steve Rogers x Reader - Freeform, marvel fancfiction, marvel imagine, mcu imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandombasurero/pseuds/fandombasurero
Summary: Steve after a performance gets shy when he asks reader to go dancing with him.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Steve Rogers Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150565
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	May I Have This Dance

Steve was so tired. Although he did like that he was somehow aiding the war effort through promoting war bonds, he really wanted to prove that he was more than just a lab experiment. He wanted to desperately be out there in the field like Bucky, along with the troops who wanted to stop the bullies. Instead, he was holding fake guns, with actors dressed as soldiers, a fake background, and even reciting an awkward script that was taped on the back of his stage prop: the shield.   
After some photos with the guests who wanted to see him, he finally got to sit down on a seat, taking off the silly mask and putting it next to him alongside his slacks and shirt and overalls. Right. He had to change. Where was his manners, he should go to the men’s room, and so he got up, got all his things, ready to go home back to his hotel room and get ready to move from Chicago to...where was it next? 

“Y/N, clean this up for me, yeah? Thank you.”  
“Y/N, here’s my dress!”   
“Y/N here! Hang it!”

Steve looked over to see the USO girls’ dressing room wide open, almost the whole group of girls rushing out, seeing some either leave the costumes behind or even throwing them in the air carelessly. Once the room looked more cleared up, he saw one more left: you. It was a sad sight to see really, your once carefully curled hair was all messed up, the cute sparkling blue army hat accessory was on the verge of falling from your head, and your white elbow-length gloves were now rolled onto your wrist. You were in the middle of a huge mess: shoes all around the floor being a potential hazard, dresses semi-hanged, on the floor, on the table, and even piled up in your arms. He could already tell one thing about you as you shakily and carefully tiptoed your way back to the tables to set the dresses down: you must be the “weak link” of the group. 

Steve, almost like clockwork, went into the room and set his stuff down on the long wooden table next to the disregarded dresses to help you. “Here, I’ll help.” He offers, he couldn’t see your face because of the amount of dresses you held in your arms. “Oh, yes please. Thank you. Sorry for the trouble,” you squeak. He carefully took the pile from your grasp and placed them along with the other dresses, only for him to freeze. You… you looked beautiful. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone like you. Despite your messy state and your tired face, he couldn’t help but admire you from head to toe, the curls managed to still frame your face well, your cute nose, the wonderfully shaped lips that were defined by the red lipstick, your form, and most of all, the hopeful and optimistic gleam in your eyes that were hidden beneath the tired eyes. 

“H-hi.” He manages to say, mentally face palming himself, scared you’ll get repulsed by his awkwardness. You probably thought he was handsome and that’s it, he told himself. But alas, the thankful and kind smile that graced your lips erased that assumption, feeling almost shameful that he thought of such a thing. “Hi. S-Sorry ummm. Cap.” You say, cutely and jokingly saluting at him, making an awkward chuckle come from both of your mouths. “Oh, no. No need to do that. Want me to punch Hitler in the face for the 100th time?” He asks, trying his best to keep up. Oh no, that failed. 

But you laughed. 

It was the cutest laugh he’s heard. Not the overly-done attempts at being feminine type of laugh. It was a real genuine one, one that bordered wheezing and the type that made your lips go from ear to ear, eyes crinkling as they closed in laughter. Steve felt his heart flip for the second time tonight. Oh, you were beautiful up close. 

“That won’t be something I’d ask. I’ve seen it almost 100 times,” you tease, kneeling to pick up the pairs of shoes. “I’d ask if you wanna stay around to give me company while I clean, but I’m sure you’re busy, Rogers.” You respond softly, making him raise his eyebrows. That’s probably the first time someone remembered a part of his name. Observant. It made him smile to know someone saw the man behind the mask. He shook his head and bent down in front of you to meet you in eye level, a blush evident on his cheeks. “Steve. Steve Rogers. But umm. Yeah. Steve. Steve is good.”   
It was your turn to turn red, smiling shyly as your hand gently shook his, looking right at his blue eyes. “Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you, Steve.” you giggle. “You’re cute you know.” You remark boldly, maybe a bit too boldly for your liking. “Ah, promise you Y/N, I didn’t always look like this,” He responds embarrassingly, cleaning up and putting away heels at the rows of cubbies on the wall. “Oh, no, I meant…” you start, trailing off a bit before clearing your throat. “I mean the way you talked to me…” you finish, groaning at yourself. This is why you can’t get through with a man at all. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re...you’re umm… cute too.”

“Come, again?” You ask. But Steve blushes.

“You heard me,” he says, turning even redder than before.

“It’d be a dream if someone told me that. I must be in dreamland then.” 

“Oh come on, I bet men tell you that you’re cute many times, Y/N. Maybe that’s how you landed to be a USO girl,” he remarks shyly looking at you as you do your part in putting pairs of heels away. “Not exactly,” you smile shyly, looking at Steve quickly before you start on the army hats, folding them neatly. “You’d be the first Steve, I mean it. Umm, I pretty much took the job because the girl who originally had my spot got a sprain on her ankle. Can-cans got the best of her during the auditions. The final call too.” You remark, wincing at the memory. “So you stepped in?” “yeah, pretty much.” “What are can-cans exactly?” “Oh umm.. Those kick things. Surely you’ve known the Rockettes.” You say shocked, eyes once again meeting Steve’s. “No, no I don’t.” He shrugs. “W-well. W-well I’ve heard of Rockettes. But I’ve never seen them.” He corrects himself. 

“Oh! Well they’re easy, see,” you start, eyes lighting up as you go to the now clean floors of the room, showing him the can-can as you lift your pointed foot up knee-level, putting it down, and then kicking at eye-level. “See? Then you just… do a bit of a hop… mhm.. And then you switch and do the same!” you explain. The smile on Steve’s face was enormous as well as subconscious. The way your eyes lit up at the mention of a dance move alone was easily caught by Steve. Now he was wondering why no one called you cute to begin with. You moved gracefully and beautifully as you jokingly repeated the damned “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” number, but he didn’t want to stop you at all. You genuinely looked like you enjoyed the stage. If it were up to him, he would have made you a star by now. Hell, even Rita Hayworth or Lauren Bacall were no match to you, he thought. “Don’t understand why you didn’t get casted by merit.” He says, helping you put the hats in their cubbies as you folded the last of the bunch. “Hmm… dunno… was told I didn’t have the dancer body. Or the looks. I guess you can see here the girls kinda pick at me cuz management does. Nothing too bad though, I’ve dealt with worse back at home, so this is actually good on my terms. Sorry. I talked too much,” You say shyly, giving Steve the rest of the hats before you started to hang the dresses. 

“No, not at all. I… I like hearing you talk…” 

This made you all shy on him again. The reaction made Steve do nothing but mirror you, blush again returning to his cheeks. “Well, enough about me, what about you?” You say, wanting to change the subject. Steve could only shrug as he continued to help. “What can I say? I’m nothing much, just a guy from Brooklyn. Secret, I actually used to be tiny...sickly… pretty weak. My best friend… Bucky I call him, he’d normally try to set up these double dates with dames from Brooklyn… long story short, it ends with them dancing with Bucky… they don’t want anything to do with me… anyways… I wanted to join the war.. with the troops… to help fight the Nazis… so I took part of a science experiment that helped me get like this… I got trained and then did the experiment but… they still saw me as this weak guy… so I’m here…” he responds, feeling embarrassed as he kept going. “Between you and me though.” He adds. 

He doesn’t get why he slips up so easily. He talks to you like it’s nothing. Maybe it’s because you’re approachable. Maybe it’s the understanding nod and the undivided attention you’re giving him. Is it the fact that you two understood each other? The fact that you two despite different backgrounds, knew what it was like to be judged by appearance and feeling the desperate need to prove them wrong no matter what? Maybe. For some reason, he trusts you won’t tell anyone. He hopes for and trusts your good judgement. 

“Goodness, Steve… I may not be the one to determine this… but I do know that you are capable of doing what you want. I’m sure you went through a lot… but I don’t think that alone should hold you back. As someone who still goes through it, I hold onto the hope that one day, someone will see it, and then I’ll start going where I wanna be.” You say with honesty and confidence. The optimism surprises him; a pleasant surprise. It gave him comfort. “You think so, huh?” He asks, looking for reassurance. He was hoping you said what you said. “I know so.” This makes Steve smile. Blush even. For no one else outside Bucky said this to him before. 

“I hope you know the same goes to you for your dancing. You keep dancing, Y/N and I’m sure one day you’ll be on the silver screen with Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. You got it, the dancing, the grace, the looks,” he says cutting himself off when you raise your eyebrows at the last part. “L-Looks?” You ask shyly, turning red again. 

Oh god… 

“Well, you see… I umm… I like to draw… I used to go to art school… I hope that’s a sufficient excuse.” He says awkwardly. Dear lord the streak is gone. 

“I’d love to see you draw…” you reply meekly with a smile. He couldn’t help but take another look at you. You really were beautiful in his eyes. The smile rarely left. The hopeful gleam in your eyes is still evident, but he can see hope written all over your beautiful face. Your kindness only made your presence radiant. His eyes went from your head to your eyes to your neck, your shoulders, your arms, but landed to your gloved hands. His mind began to wonder how they’d feel on his cheeks, or interlocked with his, he began to wonder how gracefully you’d dance across the dance floor. He’d never know, his initial thoughts said to him. But you could try, the thoughts conclude. 

“Sorry that was a lot to say, I’m sorry,” you apologize shyly, making him remember what was happening. “Oh no no!” He says making you jump a bit and looking at Steve in confusion. Here goes nothing Steve. Try to be like Bucky. 

“I can draw you,” he offers. 

“Ooh, alright how much, then? I’m sure it’ll be good,” you say with a smile. Oh god he didn’t want to be the reason for that smile to fade. But yet he pushes. His heart races. Faster and faster. 

“N-no money… how about ummm.. about ummm.. a..a dance?” He stutters out shyly, getting even more embarrassed when your eyes look at him in shock. “Like… night club dancing?” You ask in confirmation, oh you hoped you heard that right. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to feel his company longer. You wanted to keep talking, keeping stutter for who knows how long. All you knew was that you wanted to be near him. And hope that he felt the same even a little. You started to smile when he merely gulped and silently nodded, fiddling with his fingers. “Y-yeah… but of course you don’t have to say-”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y-Yes.. yes I’ll dance. With you.”

“Really?” He was shocked. So shocked. He couldn’t believe it. He had to make sure you knew what you were getting into. 

“Yes.”

A beat of silence. 

“I’m very awkward.”

“I think you’d know that I have my tendencies too.”

“I might step on your toes.”

“I’ll teach you. We can sway… dance cheek to cheek… anything you’re comfortable with.” You bargain, and smile when Steve reciprocates it with his own smile. “O-oh. Oh good. Gee. I never had a time where I asked a dame to dance with me before and they replied with a yes. You’re my first.” He admits shyly. You let out another giggle. His heart flips the third time that night. “Steve, you’re my first as well. Oh wow… ummmm.. wow…. Why don’t we change and we can go? I’d love to know you, Steve Rogers.” You say, and he could have sworn he saw your eyes twinkle. He was enamored by you for sure. 

“And I’d love to get to know you, Y/N L/N.”


End file.
